


She Will Not Be Forgotten

by Sharla_Funshine



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 11:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharla_Funshine/pseuds/Sharla_Funshine
Summary: After the funeral of Tony Stark, the women of the Avengers gather together to remember one of their own - Natasha Romanoff.





	She Will Not Be Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Losing Natasha in Avengers: Endgame gutted me and I wanted to give her the send off that the movie didn't.

Okoye pokes at the fire, coaxing it to life. Satisfied, she looks around the makeshift campfire she’s made, which now stands empty.

“Do you think they will show?” Shuri asks from her place at Okoye’s elbow. She holds up two of the bottles they had brought from Wakanda. “It would be a shame to let this whiskey go to waste.”

“I honestly do not know,” Okoye replies. “Our ways are not theirs and we have already done so much mourning today.” She tries to sound unconcerned, but she has been asking herself the same thing since she’d approached Carol and Nebula about having a Dora Milaje Khumbuzo for their fallen comrade. Although they did not know each other well, they had all served under Natasha in the wake of the decimation and it felt right to talk to them first. They had both welcomed the opportunity to honor Natasha. With their support, Okoye had invited each of the women present to the Khumbuzo, without knowing if they would come.

Okoye glances at the darkening sky, disheartened, and then back up to the house. To her surprise and relief, a band of women were making their down towards the lake, alone or in pairs.

Carol reaches her first and they exchange a nod. The others file in behind her. Nebula stalks over to the bench nearest to Okoye, Mantis a step behind her. Hope Van Dyne spreads out a blanket and sits at her mother’s feet. Laura and Lila Barton, settle on a bench, their arms wrapped around one another. Wanda gives Shuri a shy smile and takes the spot next to her. Maria Hill, hovers at the edge of the circle, standing side by side with Carol.

Once they have all found a place, Shuri passes around paper cups and then goes to each one of them, pouring a healthy measure of the amber liquid into their cups. With her mother’s silent permission, even Lila receives a splash of the whiskey.

Okoye stands, studying everyone in the light of the bonfire. The gathered women are still wearing their black mourning clothes, but some color has begun to appear as they’ve donned jackets and wraps. Some of these women she has known for years, while others she met for the first time a few days ago. Yet they are all her sisters in battle and they are here to remember one of their own. 

"Thank you so much for coming tonight.” Okoye’s voice is sure even though she questions whether her actions are appropriate. “As we gather to bid farewell to Tony Stark, there is another that I wish to honor.”

Each one of the women nod, their faces sad and somber.

“The Dora Milaje have a tradition where we honor our fallen sisters, a Khumbuzo,” Okoye explains. “We come together under the moonlight to share memories and toast to their journey in the afterlife - it’s our way of saying good-bye.” Okoye sets her shoulders and holds up her cup. “Natasha Romanoff was not a Dora Milaje, but she is one of the greatest warriors I have ever known. This why I have brought us here tonight; so that we might remember her and send her on her way.”

Okoye takes a sip of her whiskey before she continues. “My first real memory of Natasha is standing with her on the battlefield in Wakanda. We had exchanged no more than a handful of sentences, but in that instant we came to the aid of one of our own.” She glances at Wanda. “And the three of us together took down a fearsome enemy. I admired Natasha from that point on, but in the coming months and years, I would come to depend on her.” Okoye grits her teeth, summoning courage to say what needs to be said. “After the decimation and the loss of my king, my princess, so many of my sisters, I felt adrift, confused. Natasha gave me purpose, direction.” Unable to look at the others, Okoye stares at the flames . “I never expected to follow an Avenger, but I was grateful for her leadership. Natasha is the main reason I survived those dark times and I will miss her until the end of my days.” She takes another drink of her whiskey and the others do the same.

For a long moment no one makes a sound and Okoye worries that the others will not participate. She is about to panic when Wanda speaks up.

“I wear a red coat into battle because of a jacket my brother and I stole from Natasha’s locker on our first day in the Avengers compound. It was this fantastic, red leather jacket and it made me feel like a badass, even though I was terrified.” She chuckles to herself. “Nat was pissed when she realized I’d taken it, but she never asked for it back.” Wanda sniffles and wipes her eyes. “As the only other female Avenger, she always pushed me to be better, be stronger, be smarter.” She exchanges a look with Okoye. “But she also made sure that, no matter what, I knew I wasn’t alone in life or in a fight. She had my back, always.”

Another hush falls over the group, until Shuri leans forward. “Even when my brother thought the Avengers were all jerks, he held the Black Widow in high regard.”

“Was that before or after, she took him down with her Widow’s Bite?” Wanda asks, leaning into Shuri with a slight grin.

“After, and that made me want to meet her even more,” Shuri answers. “I begged T’Challa and Steve all the time to bring Natasha to Wakanda. I wanted to hear about her missions and her techniques, take apart her tech, see if I couldn’t provide her with something better.” She toys with the cup in her hand. “She at last came to Wakanda, but it was too late. They needed her in the field and I was needed in the lab. And then,” she breaks off, “I went poof and by the time I came back, she was gone. I never got to say more than ‘hello’ to her.”

Shuri’s words hang in the air. It strikes Okoye, not for the first time, how few of these women had known Natasha. The unfairness of it makes her blood roil. Uncertain what else to do, Okoye turns to Maria; she’d worked with Natasha for years prior to the Avengers.

“Ms. Hill,” Okoye breaks the silence, “you worked with Natasha at S.H.I.E.L.D. What was she like?”

Maria straightens. “Agent Romanoff she was efficient, unwavering, and willing to do what it took to get the job, whatever the job, done. Fury depended on her for the most difficult assignments and she never failed him.” She cocks her head to one side. “But what I will never forget about Natasha, is her anguish when she thought we’d lost Director Fury and her utter relief when she found out he was alive.” Maria eyes go soft. “I didn’t know until that day how much she cared about Fury, Steve, Barton, anyone she’d come to trust. There she was, almost bleeding out from a gunshot, but I knew she, of all people, needed to know that he was ok. ”

“Nat had a tough exterior,” Laura chokes out, “but she loved the people around her fiercely, even if she didn’t always show it.”

“She was like my,” the word ‘sister’ dies on Nebula’s lips. She looks away from the circle, her black eyes glittering and shakes her head. “I can’t.”

Seeing her distress, Mantis places a hand on Nebula’s bare shoulder and her antennae start to glow. “Natasha reminded Nebula of her sister, Gamora. She trusted and respected Natasha as a leader and feels sadness, loss, and anger due to her death. She also feels grateful to Natasha for being the leader she needed at time when she had nobody else.”

Okoye had stood alongside Nebula the last few years and had never seen the depth of her pain before. She scolds herself for not seeing past the rage that the woman had worn as armour. As a Dora Milaje, Okoye should’ve known that it guarded a deep sadness.

Nebula squeezes Mantis’ hand. “Thank you.” She grimaces, fighting her tears. “It is not fair that not one, but two warriors had to be sacrificed for the cursed soul stone,” she murmurs, her voice raw. “It’s not fair.”

“So few things are,” Janet remarks, after a weighty silence, running her hand through Hope’s hair. She meets Nebula’s gaze. “I never met Natasha, but hearing you all speak of her, I wish I had.”

From her place at Janet’s feet, Hope nods. “Me too. I was pissed at Scott for running off to Germany for a lot of reasons, but I was also super jealous that he got to see the Widow in action; even if they were on different sides. It sounds like she was incredible”

“She was,” Carol agrees, moving closer to the fire. “There wouldn’t have been a team these last five years, if it hadn’t been for Natasha. After we failed to defeat Thanos, she was the one who stepped up when everyone else started to pull apart. She was hurting as much as any of us and instead of wallowing or trying to move on, she set up shop at the Avengers’ compound. For the next five years, she made sure that the world didn’t go to shit in the wake of the decimation. She did it without being asked and without being thanked.” She snorts. “I resented and refused to follow a lot the orders she gave, but I respected the hell out of her.” Carol pauses and Okoye can see the regret on her face. “I wish now I’d taken the time to take her out for beer and gotten to know her. That’s on me.”

Okoye wonders what it would have been like to grab a friendly drink with Carol and Nat. “And me.”

“On all of us who were left,” Nebula whispers, almost too low to hear.

“You missed on one hell of a woman,” Laura assures them. “Nat could come off as cold and a little terrifying, but that was only one side of her. Once you sat her down to a good meal or a stiff drink, she became a different person.” Laura she bites her lip, as more tears slide down her cheeks. “Clint loved Nat like a sister and so did I; she was family.” She takes a shuddering breath. “Someday, when this pain isn’t so fresh, I hope I can share with you all the amazing, hilarious, and endearing, memories I have of Nat, but I can’t today.”

From her place at Laura’s side, Lila speaks up when her mom goes quiet. “Aunt Nat was going to teach me how to be an assassin when I grew up. She told me between her and my dad, I’d be more of a badass than both of them.” She wipes her nose on the sleeve of her sweater, like a little kid. “It’s dumb, but I keep wondering who’s going teach me now?”

Okoye’s heart breaks for the young girl, whose grief is so different from her own or anyone else in the circle. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “I could never replace your aunt or teach you the invaluable lessons she would’ve taught you, but it would be my privilege to share what I know, in Natasha’s memory.”

Lila brightens. “Really? You’d do that?”

Okoye dips into a slight bow, serious and reverent. “It would be my honor.”

“Hell, yeah, kid,” Carols agrees, clapping Lila on the shoulder. “We have to train up the next generation of heroes.”

The others nod, even Nebula and an uncertain Mantis, and the sorrowful mood lifts a little.

It is in the wake of this promise, that Pepper Potts appears out of the darkness and pauses at the edge of the circle. Okoye had hesitated to even mention anything to the grieving widow on the day she had laid her husband to rest. In the end she’d decided it would’ve been wrong to not extend the invitation.

“Ms. Potts,” Okoye greets her as Shuri pours her cup of whiskey, “I’m so glad you could join us.”

Pepper accepts it and sits. “Sorry I’m late. Morgan wanted an extra bedtime stories before she’d go to sleep.”

Okoye waves away her apology. “It has been a long day for you both; we’re glad you’re here now.”

Pepper lifts her cup in thanks. “So, we’re sharing memories of Natasha?” she asks, glancing around at the women gathered, not expecting an answer. She takes a small drink and begins. “I wish you could’ve seen Natasha, or Natalia as she called herself, when I first met her.” She gazes into the fire, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Her persona was intended to attract and distract Tony and it was perfect. It even came complete with a lingerie photo shoot. Tony fell for it hook, line, and sinker. I hated her, for the being so ‘obvious’ and for the attention he paid her. I was jealous,” she admits with a shake of her head.

“I remember that mission,” Maria laughs. “You would’ve been impressed with the amount of research Natasha did to create Natalia. There was no way Tony wasn’t going to fall for her. She was that good.”

“That she was,” Pepper replies, her voice fond. “Then she dropped the act and I got to know her, the real her - brilliant, efficient, strategic, deadly. During what little time we spent together, I admired and genuinely liked her. And I was so glad that she was an Avenger,” she adds. “Those boys needed someone like her to keep them grounded and centered. Nat managed to do it without them even knowing it.” Pepper studies the contents of her cup and takes another small sip. “Nat was incredible and I hate that Morgan will never get a chance to know her.”

A quiet falls over the group. Okoye stands tall and looks at each woman in turn. “And this is part of the reason we gather together tonight to remember our fallen sister. In this way, we make sure that Natasha Romanoff’s memory endures and that her story will inspire our daughters and sisters, as well as our sons and brothers.”

She hands a fresh bottle of whiskey to Shuri, who moves around the circle. “Tonight we have shared our memories of Natasha and may we do so until we too pass into the memory.” Once all the cups have been refilled, Okoye continues. “The Dora Milaje ends this ceremony, the Khumbuzo, with a toast and the promise that she will not be forgotten.” She holds up her cup. “Akayi ku libala.”

“Akayi ku libala,” the women repeat, somewhat clumsily, and together they drink to life, death, and memory of Natasha Romanoff.

“Akayi ku libala.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me if I mistranslated the Xhosa used in this work. I do not speak Xhosa and depended on Google translate. 
> 
> Translations  
> Khumbuzo - Memorial  
> Akayi ku libala - She will not be forgotten


End file.
